


The Alternate World Of Fantastic Beasts

by Dragon_MoonX



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble Collection, Gen, Humor, Implied/Referenced Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26343613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_MoonX/pseuds/Dragon_MoonX
Summary: A collection of drabbles featuring altered scenes from Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them.
Kudos: 5





	1. An Outing With Ivan

Credence slowly lifted his head, watching as the smile faded from Langdon's face.

"What's that thing?" Langdon queried, motioning towards the bizarre contraption with a stack of papers in his hand.

There was a large machine nestled in Mary Lou's arms, whirring away in contentment as she stood before them, her eyes narrowed slightly, as if daring the young man to say something about her husband.

A moment of silence, followed by a faint click as Ivan ejected a flurry of leaves onto the floor.

"Right." Langdon paused, spun on heel and marched towards the elevator. It was clear that he wasn't going to get an answer out of them, and besides, he had more important things on his mind. "Right this way, people, right this way!"

The elevator doors closed behind them, an uncomfortable silence settled over the group as they waited for the elevator to reach the top floor. During this time, Langdon attempted to make conversation with Mary Lou, and regretted his decision immediately.

"So, you say that you've got evidence supporting your claims?" he began eagerly, saying all of this very quickly and with much enthusiasm. "Because you know, there aren't many people who believe such things. Not to worry, because if I can convince my father to aid you in your cause, we'll soon be on our way to - "

Langdon never got to finish his sentence. His was silenced when Mary Lou started petting her husband, the leaf machine rattling and clanging.

"Ivan doesn't like witches," she said simply, massaging the furious leaf machine.

Langdon's jaw dropped. The three children looked in different directions, staring at either the wall or the floor.

Ivan emitted a puff of smoke, spluttering and coughing up the ashes of a burnt leaf.

"As you can see, he believes in burning them at the stake. A wise decision," Mary Lou added, offering her husband her sleeve. The gesture was meant to comfort the irritable leaf machine, but instead Ivan decided to go for Chastity's hair.

When the elevator doors opened, the men and women in the office were greeted with the sight of Credence and Modesty, both of them in a panic, frantically trying to pull their sister's hair out of the leaf machine.

Mary Lou was screaming, clutching Ivan against her chest and threatening them all with the belt. Chastity was screaming as well, tears streaming down her face. Langdon, meanwhile, had backed into the corner of the elevator and flattened himself against the wall, not knowing what to do or say in this situation.

After a brief struggle, Credence finally managed to free his sister, though not before a large chunk of her hair had been swallowed by the leaf machine. He had also dropped his leaflets during the fight with Ivan, and was in the process of picking them up when they were approached by Henry Shaw Jr.

The senator had been watching from across the room, his lip curling in an ugly sneer. "Hey, boy!" he spat with contempt, snatching a leaflet off the floor and crushing it in his fist. "You dropped something."

Credence froze, his eyes widening as Henry shoved the crumpled leaflet in his hand.

"Here you go, freak," said Henry, his eyes alight with malice. "Why don't you put that in the trash where you all belong."

At these words Credence felt his pulse begin to race, a muscle twitching over his left eye as Henry burst out laughing. Ivan, however, was thoroughly annoyed at this comment, and in an effort to defend his family he unleashed a tidal wave of pea soup on the senator, regurgitating more than a gallon of soup from the depths of his storage container.

Most of it sprayed into Henry's face, gushing into his mouth and covering his shirt with a layer of green mush.

Modesty gasped, gripping her brother's hand as Ivan finished emptying the contents of storage container. She didn't see the smile that formed on Credence's lips, spreading into a grin as he lifted his head and looked around the room, checking to make sure that this was actually happening.

"Get out!" Henry shouted, wiping pea soup from his eyes. "All of you, out! Before I call security and have you thrown from the building!"

"Well, I never!" Mary Lou huffed in annoyance, cradling her husband as Credence leapt up and hurried to the back of the elevator. She slammed the button on the wall, and the elevator began its descent. "We don't need his assistance, children. Not if he's going to be so rude, insulting my husband like that."

Altogether it had been quite an experience, the smile lingering on Credence's face long after they had left the building.


	2. Mind Your Own Business

Newt shifted in his seat, uncomfortably eyeing the people in the room. A low murmur of conversation filled the air, laughter and music flitting from the stage, but it did nothing to ease his nerves.

"Tina," he began hesitantly. "You can tell me to mind my own business... but I saw something in that death potion back there. I saw you - singing - in the bathroom."

Her heart leapt into her throat, stalling as her mouth dropped open.

"No," she breathed, suddenly recalling a moment from her childhood.

.oOo.

_Tina Goldstein, only four years old, smiled at her mother as she pulled up her pants. She was so proud of herself, because she was a big girl now. Learning to use the potty like big girls do._

_"Wait, mommy, wait!" Tina cried, reaching for her mother and holding onto her wrist. "Let me sing my song."_

_Her mother let go of the handle and took a step back, giving her daughter some room._

_Tina stood beside the toilet and began to sing._

_"Poop, poop, poop, poop, I love you. Poop, poop, poop, poop, I'll miss you."_

_Her mother laughed, amused by her daughter's sweet little song. "Okay, say bye. We're going to flush now."_

_Tina waved good-bye to the poo as her mother flushed the toilet. "Bye-bye, poopy. I hope you'll be okay." Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and the little girl began to cry, heartbroken over her dearly departed poo._

_"Aww, teeny Tina and her giant poop," her mother said. Then, a minute later, "Uh-oh, second flush!"_

.oOo.

"Tina?"

The witch had gone silent, staring at the opposite end of the room.

"T-Tina? Are you alright?"

Newt reached to touch her shoulder, when suddenly there was a flash of light.

"You were saying?" Tina queried, slipping her wand back in her purse.

"Uhh..." Newt drooled, his eyes crossing. "My - my creatures... Who's going to help me find my creatures?"

Tina smiled sweetly at him. "That one," she said, nodding towards the goblin in the corner. "Hush now! Here he comes."


	3. Oblivious

Shadows fell across his face, a sense of urgency building in his chest as he ducked into the alley. He saw Percival Graves, waiting, as he always did, with the same slew of questions he always asked.

"Have you any news?" Graves queried, and Credence clenched his fists at his sides.

"I can't," said Credence, frustration boiling over as he lifted his head and made eye contact with the older wizard. "Mr. Graves, do you have any idea who or what you're talking to?"

Graves looked at him with a blank stare. Then slowly a wide grin spread across his face.

Of course he knew who he was talking to. Credence was a squib, plain and simple. But that didn't mean the boy couldn't be useful in his search for the Obscurial.

"My boy, I believe you are holding on to a wealth of information," Graves crooned, keeping his persuasive tone as pleasant as possible.

"You don't know the half of it," said Credence, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Now, when last we spoke, the Obscurus had been sighted in the vicinity of the bank," Graves continued, ignoring the warning signs that were all around him. "I witnessed a dark mass heading west. Perhaps it was returning to its place of origin."

Unable to tolerate this ceaseless rambling, Credence shuddered violently, dissolving into smoke just as Graves turned to the west, searching the skies for any sign of the wayward Obscurus.

"It frequently travels the same path," said Graves, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. A black, billowing cloud somersaulted across his field of vision, and the wizard opened his umbrella. "Looks like a storm is on the way," he muttered.

The Obscurus, furious at being ignored, slashed at the umbrella and turned it inside out, the force of its tantrum knocking Graves off his feet.

Startled by this sudden upheaval, Graves dropped his umbrella and gasped, the wind whipping his coat in all directions.

"Credence!" he called out suddenly. "I don't think your mother would want you outside in a storm like this."

The roar of the wind was getting stronger, and Graves was unable to stand. Crawling across the ground, he managed to grab onto a street lamp, clinging to it as a pair of overturned trash cans were sent hurtling through the nearest building.

"I really need to pay closer attention to the weather report." Graves was silenced a moment later when a flying newspaper struck him in the face.

The Obscurus gave one last bellowing roar before returning to its host, the Obscurial turning and walking down the street.

"Forget it," Credence said sadly, not bothering to look back. "No one ever listens to me anyway."


	4. The Treats That Muggles Makes

It began with a murmur of conversation, one female voice quivering with anxiety. Of course she wanted to be heard, wanted to make her story known so that she could receive a pat on the back and a chance at restoring her title.

But Percival Graves couldn't have cared less if Tina went back to being an Auror. What mattered was that he overhead something about the Second Salemers, as Abernathy chose to call them. Obviously, Tina had been snooping were she didn't belong. Otherwise, she wouldn't have sounded so nervous.

Graves stepped forward, eager to see what was going on. He then noticed a worn leather suitcase on the desk.

"Mr. Graves, sir, this is Mr. Scamander - he has a crazy in that case and it got out and caused mayhem at the bank, sir." Tina said all of this rather quickly, pointing at the suitcase on the desk.

Graves was intrigued. "Let's see the little guy," he told her, ignoring the scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafting from the battered suitcase.

There was a soft click, the lid opening to reveal dozens of delicious pastries. The aroma of freshly baked treats wafted into his nose, and Graves snatched the case as quickly as he could, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply.

"Yes, miss Goldstein, I am thankful for your, shall we say, kind gesture," he said, mouth watering from the fragrance. Before anyone could object, he bit into one of the pastries, cream squirting out onto the front of his shirt. "This requires some time alone. If you'll excuse me." He then swept past the puzzled onlookers, leaving Tina and the others more than a little confused as to what had just taken place.

.oOo.

It was almost closing time when Tina realized that she hadn't seen Graves all morning, not since he ran off with the suitcase full of pastries. Her sister had already gathered her belongings when they heard a loud belch coming from the direction of Graves' office.

Unable to contain her curiosity, Queenie moved towards the staircase, followed shortly by her older sister who insisted they shouldn't be doing this.

Queenie shushed her sibling. She then glanced towards the adjacent hallway and whispered, "Oh Teenie, it's just a harmless little peek. What's the worst that could happen?"

The door was ajar when they reached his office, the sisters now scrambling over top of each other, trying to see through the gap between the door and the wall. Finally, when they were in position, they were able to see Graves sitting at his desk. The empty suitcase was in front of him, its lid wide open with a scattering of crumbs and sprinkles covering his desk.

Graves had removed his pants and thrown them across the room, his belly aching from all the pastries he had eaten. His pants were now hanging from the coat rack, a smear of vanilla frosting encrusted on the seat of his pants.

He leaned back in his seat, groaning and rubbing his bloated belly while gazing at the ceiling. A layer of frosting had dried along the corner of his mouth, his fingers coated with sweet, sticky globs of jam. There was melted chocolate oozing down his left cheek, and from the looks of it he had basically shoved everything in his face, making a colossal mess in the process.

Queenie snorted when she heard him hiccup, covering her mouth to stifle the laugher bubbling in her chest. She didn't think Graves would make a pig out of himself, not classy, sophisticated Mr. Graves whom everyone loved and respected. But he was human after all, just like everyone else. And now that the pastries had been consumed, Graves closed his eyes and slept off his food coma at his desk.


	5. Fantastic Weed and Where To Smoke It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a bit of research on this, looking up animals that get high then writing about their magical equivalent in the wizarding world. Because Newt is a Hufflepuff, so you know somebody had to write about this eventually.

He smelled him first before he saw him coming. The fragrance, a pungent aroma reminiscent of dry straw, fish food and an overabundance of feathers, mingled with something odd, something less familiar.

"What the hell is that?" Jacob Kowalski wrinkled his nose in disgust. It smelled like a skunk had just wandered into the bank. He then spied the shabby wizard from across the building, turning circles while looking this way and that.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"No, I was just... just... waiting..."

Jacob tried to hide the mild sense of revulsion he felt as Newt sat down on the bench beside him. After all it wasn't proper. This man, with his untidy reddish-brown curls and battered suitcase, might be perfectly friendly despite the unpleasant aroma wafting from his clothes.

He decided to make small talk while they waited.

"Hi," Jacob said, trying his best to sound cheerful. However, the nervous tremor in his voice said otherwise. "What brings you here?"

Newt coughed into his closed fist and cleared his throat. "Same as you..." he replied, his gaze dropping to the floor, intensely focused on his shoelaces.

"You're here to get a loan to open up a bakery?" Jacob queried, sounding somewhat skeptical.

"Bakery?" Newt echoed, suddenly alert at the mention of food. He began to salivate at the thought, imagining loads of cream filled donuts and freshly baked pies. "Oh, I love a good cake. Red velvet in particular. With a pint of whipped cream and hot fudge on top."

Jacob scooted sideways on the bench, trying to distance himself from the smell of Newt's clothes. "Hey, pal, you alright there?" he asked, watching the young man staring off in distance at nothing in particular.

Newt shook his head, a few strands of reddish hair falling into his face. "Yes," he said simply, still drooling down the front of his shirt. "So sorry," he muttered, his thoughts clearing momentarily. "You wouldn't happen to have something to eat, would you?"

Jacob couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "Yeah, I guess you could have some of this," he said, placing his suitcase on the bench and opening the lid.

He couldn't resist offering this strange man a taste of his pastries. After all he had to get his start somewhere. Might as well hand out a couple of free samples and see where it went from there.

This, however, turned out to be a mistake. For as soon as he opened the suitcase all of Newt's creatures detected the aroma of baked goods, the sweet smell wafting through a gap where the occamy was attempting to pry open the lid on Newt's case.

At that moment everything stopped.

The hippocampus, who was diligently munching locoweed in his watery habitat, lifted his head, greenish stalks dangling from his mouth. The mooncalves, who had eaten far too many poppies and were spinning in circles in a field, crashed into each other and lay sprawled in the grass, sniffing and staring at the opening of the suitcase.

Even the nundu, who was lazily chewing on a ayahuasca vine, stopped what he was doing and fell out of his tree, splattering just inches from where Dougal was rubbing his shaggy coat with the hallucinogenic oils from a passing millipede.

They all smelled the pastries and they all had the munchies. Because their owner was a Hufflepuff who cultivated his own variety of herbs in a secluded area to the left of the niffler's habitat. And when Newt got baked so did every last one of his creatures, inhaling the fumes or using their own natural stimulants found throughout the various habitants.

All at once the fantastic beasts threw themselves at the lid of the suitcase, craving a taste of the pastries they had whiffed. They had to have it. They were positively famished. And when they erupted out of the case, Jacob screamed and nearly leapt out of his skin.

He slid off the bench and tumbled onto the floor, watching as Newt joined his creatures, the whole lot of them converging on the baked goods like a team of vultures.

The last thing he remembered was an oddly shaped creature, looking like a cross between a naked mole rat and a sea anemone waddling across the floor. This creature had smelled the scent of cocoa powder and vanilla on Jacob's clothes, and it lunged at him, taking a bite out of his neck before the No-Maj passed out amid the stampede of magical beasts.


	6. Breaking The Silence

The silence was overbearing, not even a breath of wind passed between them, the Magizoologist seated on the opposite end of the interrogation desk, waiting for Graves to begin.

He inhaled sharply, thoughts still focused on his creatures, on the fate of his companion. Tina had done nothing to deserve this, and yet she had been hauled in with him, forced to make contact with Graves' icy stare.

His gaze scrutinizing, Graves shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes never leaving Newt's face for a second. "You were thrown out of Hogwarts for endangering human life - "

"That was an accident!" Newt blurted out, interrupting the older wizard.

Graves was unmoved by the agitation in his voice, his expression stoic. "With a beast. Yet one of your teachers argued strongly against your expulsion. Now, what makes Albus Dumbledore so fond of you?"

"I really couldn't say..." Newt muttered, bowing his head and glancing at the corner of the desk.

"So setting a pack of dangerous creatures loose here was just another accident, is that right?"

"Why would I do it deliberately?" Newt asked, thoroughly confused by this notion. He'd always been so compassionate, so kind, caring and selfless that he couldn't imagine letting his creatures loose on the general public.

"To expose wizard kind," Graves responded, acting as though the answer were obvious. "To provoke war between the magical and nonmagical worlds."

"Mass slaughter for the greater good, you mean?" Newt was looking rather uncomfortable, frowning with a hint of thinly veiled anger lacing his tone.

Graves nodded. "Yes. Quite."

"I'm not one of Grindelwald's fanatics, Mr. Graves."

The silence stretched between them, intensifying. Percival Graves, his heated gaze now burning with absolute hatred, made a motion over Newt's suitcase. "I wonder what you can tell me about this, Mr. Scamander?"

A twisted mass of writhing tendrils poured like liquid smoke onto the desk, encapsulated by a shimmering bubble. It hovered in midair, Graves watching intently, utterly fascinated by this bizarre anomaly.

The inhabitants of the room, each one staring in silent wonder, could just make out the unearthly cries muted by the containment vessel. Newt glanced over his shoulder at Tina and was about to speak when there erupted from their captor a sudden blast of wind.

Newt practically spun around in his seat. "Did you - ?"

His lips quivering with barely suppressed laughter, Graves fought to maintain his composure. "You'll have to excuse me. I uhm... might have ingested something I shouldn't have."

This statement was followed by a second eruption, and this time Graves, his face blushing several shades of red, shook his head and chuckled.

"Oh!" Newt leaned sideways in his seat, attempting to distance himself from the aroma. Even the Obscurus in its bubble backed away, pressing itself against the wall of its enclosure. "Oh, good heavens! For a minute there I thought my erumpent exploded."


End file.
